More Flirts! 5 Romantic Short Stories (The Flirts! Short Stories Collections)
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More Flirts! 5 Romantic Short Stories
By Lisa Scott
“Pickup Lessons”
“Ex Therapy”
“Mr. Wrong”
“I Know Who You Kissed Last Night”
“The Girl In The Pink Hat”
Kindle Edition
Copyright © 2012 Lisa Scott Macdonough
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission of the Author. Your support of author’s rights is appreciated.
All characters in this short story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Pickup Lessons
Ex Therapy
Mr. Wrong
I Know Who You Kissed Last Night
The Girl In The Pink Hat
About the Author
Pickup Lessons
By Lisa Scott
Stone Kinney crouched behind a rack of clearance evening gowns while setting his sights on the blond woman fingering bottles at the perfume counter. She bit her lush lower lip as she considered the choices. The word “stalker” occurred to him as he watched her, but he reminded himself that all the dating books had advised finding women where they congregated. The perfume counter was like a watering hole in the African savannah, and he was merely observing the gathering. And besides, it’s not like he was staking out the lingerie section. That would have been much more menacing than peeping at the cosmetics department.
But the women perusing perfumes weren’t much friendlier than wild animals stopping for a drink. The last two prospects he’d approached had swung their shopping bags at him. He’d have the bruises the next day to prove it. They must’ve just purchased hand weights. Or rocks. Two others had sprinted toward the food court when he emerged from behind the gowns with a friendly grin. Another had spritzed him with the tester—right in the eyes. If he hadn’t been so annoyed, he would’ve been impressed with her aim.
The books had all made it sound much easier than this. Not one of them had mentioned needing self-defense moves while trying to meet a woman at the mall. He’d even worn argyle socks so he’d seem perfectly harmless; he had a drawer full of them to choose from.
He looked up at the ceiling and sighed. Maybe social awkwardness couldn’t be overcome, after all. That should’ve been his dissertation instead of “Macroscopic Quantum Mechanics In Theoretical Astrophysics.” How the hell was that going to help him get a date? It was as if he’d bent his head to start reading sophomore year in high school and now only looked up ten years later. He had a lot of dating to catch up on and little experience how to do it. His one and only girlfriend, Susan, had been consumed with her work on protozoa. Seriously, she found a single cell organism more interesting than him? Then she’d dumped him for her microbiology professor. Now here he was with a new Ph.D., no job prospects, and no girlfriend. With the job search stalled, Stone decided to focus his attention on the female problem. After years with his head literally in the stars, it was time to get his feet back on the ground, argyle socks or not.
“Excuse me,” he said, approaching the blonde. “I want to pick out a perfume for my sister’s birthday. Any suggestions?”
She cocked her head and squinted at him. “What’s wrong with your eyes? They’re all red and swollen.”
He cleared his throat, wondering if he’d get sympathy points for telling her about the tester fiasco. Probably not. “Allergies. Insanely bad allergies.”
“In January?”
“Weird, right? Maybe I’m just sensitive.” He let that hang there for a reaction, but only got a stare. Guess she doesn’t like the sensitive type.
He rocked back on his heels. “So, any perfume suggestions from a beautiful woman such as yourself?”
Adjusting her purse, she frowned. “Are you sure your sister wears perfume?”
He shrugged. “She always smells great. Real sexy.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t mean she’s sexy. She’s not at all. Not my sister, no.” He wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “It’s just that it creates an incredible chemical reaction with her pheromones.”
The blonde blinked at him and backed away. “Yeah. I’ve got to go…”
This is what you get for putting school ahead of women, he thought to himself. His priorities had been all out of whack. Sighing, he was ready to retreat behind a rack of burgundy ball gowns to regroup and suffer through more sappy overhead music, when he spotted a cute brunette on the other side of the counter.
He loosened his shoulders and bounced on his toes, then walked over with an easy-going smile. At least he hoped it was. One of the books had advised him to appear approachable, and he’d practiced several different expressions in the mirror to achieve the right look—although the difference between his look of nausea and nice-to-meet-you was subtle at best. He tapped the woman on the shoulder and she jumped.
“Excuse me,” he said. “I’m shopping for my sister’s birthday and I’d like to buy perfume for her. Any good ones you could recommend? You look like you smell nice.” He cleared his throat. “You know, from an evolutionary standpoint, with your thick shiny hair and full hips, your scent is bound to be attractive as well.”
“Uh-huh.” She scrunched her brows together and looked down. “Um, perfume’s kind of a personal thing.” She smoothed her hand over her hips and frowned. Then she crossed her arms.
“There has to be one popular with hot women like you.” He’d been trying to learn how to read body language, and he knew that crossed arms were not a move meant to boost the bust. It was usually a bad sign. At least that’s what the book on body language had said.
“Why don’t you ask the saleswoman for a suggestion?” She wrinkled her nose. “She looks like she smells nice, too. Although I haven’t seen her hips.” She picked up her shopping bags and walked off.
He gritted his teeth, then hollered after her. “Today’s the Pro Bowl! Don’t I get points for shopping on the biggest sports day of the year? For my sister’s birthday?” It was stupid to holler after her while she was walking away. That was an even worse non-verbal cue than the arm cross, but he was getting frustrated.
“You don’t even have a sister, do you?”
He turned around to see who was talking to him. It was the attractive saleswoman he’d been watching all afternoon. Her dark brown hair seemed impossibly long and silky. This was the first time she hadn’t been busy helping someone or else he would’ve approached her, too. “What makes you say I don’t have a sister?” He didn’t. But how would she know that?
The woman put a hand on her hip. “I’ve never met a guy who bought perfume for his sister. I have three brothers; they’re never that thoughtful. And what’s this Pro Bowl business?”
He toyed with the cap on a perfume bottle, knocking it over. She snatched it from him and he shoved his hands in his pockets. “I thought it would impress women that I was shopping on the biggest sports day of the year. Like I have my priorities straight. So, I’d come across smart, yet sensitive, with my argyle socks.” He lifted up his leg to show her.
She blinked. “You’re not kidding, are you?”
He forced himself to look away because her breasts were mesmerizing in that tight, red sweater. “I don’t like sports, I thought it was a plus.”
She laughed. “First of all, argyle socks are lame. And secondly, the Pro Bo
wl is in a week. Today is the championship games which I am missing even though New England’s in it!” She took a deep breath. “Third of all, no one watches the Pro Bowl—the biggest game of the year is the Super Bowl. And even if you were out here on Super Bowl Sunday, that’s a desperate, devious ploy.”
“I’d call it creative.”
“Coy at best. Besides, some women like sports. I’ll have my butt in a barstool on Super Bowl Sunday. Maybe your sister will, too?”
He gave a nervous laugh. “You a big NFL fan?” He held up a finger. “Wait. I don’t mean that you’re big. You’re not big at all. You’re quite a nice size. I’m sure I could fit my hands around—”
“I’m a huge fan.” She crossed her arms and glared at him.
He gulped. “You follow your college team, too?” Maybe he could strike up a better conversation than discussing the size of her waist.
She studied her nails. “I didn’t go to college,” she said softly.
Damn. He’d embarrassed her. How did the wrong thing always crawl up his throat and jump out of his mouth? “So, you’ve been listening to me all day?”
“I’ve been stuck back here working. It was hard to avoid.” Turning around, she plucked a few boxes from the shelf behind her and put them in a cupboard below. “You’ve been annoying my customers. I should’ve called security to have you removed, but I was too curious to see whether or not any of your moves would pan out.”
He spread his arms wide. “Well, as you can see, none of them are working.”
She straightened the collection of bottles on the counter. “Why don’t you just try bars, like a normal guy? Or the gym. You look like you work out.”
A smile split his face at that comment, but she held up both hands. “Simmer down. I’m just wondering why you’re desperate enough to be trolling the perfume counter at the mall on what you thought was the biggest sports day of the year.”
That was one way to kill a grin. “I needed a new strategy.”
“And you were going to stay here until it worked?”
“The books I’ve been reading said goals are important in the dating world. So, I set a goal to approach ten women. I have three more to go. Two, if I count you.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose. More bad body language. “Please tell me the names of the books you’re reading.”
“Can’t say I’d recommend them. They’re not really helping.”
She set her hands on the counter and gave him a great big fake smile. “I don’t want to read them; I want to be sure any potential dates haven’t read them. I’ll put it on my screening survey.”
“Hey, good idea. You survey your dates?”
“You’ve inspired me to start.”
He sighed. “Sorry. I push too hard. My ex, Susan, always told me that.”
“Why does someone like you need to be trolling for dates?”
“Someone like me?”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. You must know you’re attractive.”
He shrugged and prayed he wasn’t blushing. He was pretty sure guys shouldn’t be seen blushing. “I was always busy with my studies, you know, long nights at the lab. I’m a late bloomer. I don’t have experience being attractive. Susan was my one and only girlfriend since junior year in college. She didn’t exactly go on and on about my looks. Six years later, she dumps me for her professor and here I am. I thought she was the one. I just figured we’d be getting married. I never had to worry about women before.”
“Be glad she wasn’t the one. She sounds like a witch.”
“Yeah. But now I feel like a failure. I guess I’ve got something to prove to myself, so I’m trying to get out there.” He made quotation marks in the air.
The woman shook her head. “Air quotes aren’t your friend, my man.”
Damn, he was clueless. “Thanks for the tip. Clearly, I know nothing about dating. I figured if I could read enough relationship books, it’d be like taking a class. That, I know how to do.”
“So, you’re looking for pickup lessons.”
He chuckled. “I guess you could say so.”
“Like I said, I’ve watched three brothers date half the female population in the city. I could teach you a thing or two. For a fee, of course, to make up for all the sales commissions you’ve probably cost me by chasing my customers away today.”
“Of course. What are we talking?”
“My cat is due for her yearly checkup. Does a hundred sound good?”
“I’m still looking for work, but I could swing it. What are the parameters, here? Is there any guaranteed outcome?”
She tapped her finger on the glass counter. “If you don’t get a date in two weeks, I’ll go out on a practice date with you and tell you everything you’re doing wrong.”
“What if I’m doing everything right?”
“Then you won’t need a practice date, will you?”
“So when do we start?”
“Tomorrow. I’m Kyla Carter, by the way.”
He stuck out his hand. “Stone Kinney.”
“Meet me tomorrow night at eight at the Brownstone Bar.”
“It’s a date.”
“No, it’s not. It’s a class.”
***
Kyla wasn’t exactly regretting spending her day off teaching a sexy nerd how to land a date. She just wasn’t feeling as confident as she had the day before. Her brothers were all brawn and little brain. Well, the brain was probably there, they just chose not to use it very often. But male-female relations are the same, nerd or not, right? And if she could help her brother Nick land Jessie Lewis as his prom date, she should have no problems here. Plus, there was that New Year’s resolution to be more daring. This was kind of daring, right?
No, daring would be looking for your own date, said that nasally voice in her head which sounded a lot like her mother. Plus there was the whole issue of spending time with a PhD when she only had her GED. She had to get over dropping out of school some day, but that voice in her head kept her feeling bad about that, too. When her mother died, she hadn’t left her heirloom jewelry or keepsakes. No, her mother had left her with a nagging voice in her head and a guilty conscience about everything she did—or didn’t do—right. Oh, and a boatload of money Kyla refused to touch. Hopefully, her mom was rolling over in her coffin knowing her daughter was just a perfume counter salesgirl when she could be living off millions instead. Kyla wasn’t going to let her mother control her from the grave. Yet, the memory of her sharp words still rattled around in her brain.
Luckily, she could usually push her mom’s voice away. She slipped into a cute dress, because a flirting teacher should look flirty, right? She was meeting Stone at the Brownstone Bar. Monday was ladies night and there would be plenty of women used to lame pickup lines if that was all Stone could manage.
She put her hair up in a ponytail. Then let it down. Down looked sexier, because if worse came to worse, she’d have to pretend to be interested in Stone to get some of the other ladies looking his way, wondering what he had. And the better she looked, the better he’d look to the rest of the gals in the bar. Not that Stone needed a lot of help looking good. If she could keep him quiet, it just might work. He was the kind of guy who looked like a hot, manly man—until he started talking. Once the words came out of his mouth, his cute quotient fell. It was mean to say, but there it was.
She put on another coat of lip-gloss and smacked her lips together. She certainly hoped she could help him. He seemed sweet enough, and deserved a great gal. Could she find someone in his same intellectual stratosphere? She shrugged. Someone smokin’ hot would do.
Kyla got to the bar, and scanned the room, but she didn’t see Stone. There was no mistaking the time and date, they’d made the plans yesterday for crying out loud. She sat down and ordered a beer. The bartender gave her the look most bartenders gave her when she walked in a bar alone.
“I’ll have one for my friend, too,” she said, when he brought her the beer.
“Yeah, he is,” she said.
He gave her a nod of understanding, grabbed another beer for her, and made his way down the bar to a blonde with her breasts pressed up against the counter.
Kyla drummed her fingers and checked her phone for the fifth time. It was ten after nine, and Stone was supposed to have been there at nine. Finally–after she finished her beer and shooed away three different guys who’d approached her–Stone walked in, snow flakes sparkling in his hair like stars.
Or dandruff.
He spotted her and shook his head like a dog, and pushed through the crowd to her. She tried not to sigh. This was going to be harder than she’d thought.
“Hi,” he said, sitting next to her. “Sorry I’m late.”
“Mistake number one. Never ever show up after the woman. You should be here first to take charge, to show you’re in control and will take care of her.”
He scratched his head. “What about traffic or wrong turns? There are a lot of variables that could keep a guy from getting there first.”
“Those are the rules.” She handed him a beer. “And that way, you can order drinks first, too.”
“But how will I know what she likes? Isn’t that presumptuous?”
“It shows a woman you’ll take care of her.”
He blew out a breath.
“But you look good.”
He looked down at his fitted long sleeved tee that showed off his lean muscular frame. “Thanks.”
Kyla was impressed that he didn’t even take a moment to ogle the mural of the naked mermaid on the wall across from them. Most guys did. Many even posed for pictures with ‘Naked Nellie,’ as they called her, usually making rude gestures. Her breasts were placed at the right height for a lot of fun. Depending on how busy it was, the bartender might pull out an old Polaroid camera and snap a shot to hang up on the wall by the restrooms. Stone didn’t seem to notice Nellie.
Stone smiled at Kyla. “How should I start?”
“Nice and easy. You want to start nice and easy. Forget everything you did back at the perfume counter. Wipe that right out of your brain.” She rubbed his forehead with two fingers. “You’re going to want to let the woman ask a lot of questions about you. Talk about yourself. Guys like to do that. Let her know all about you, your studies, your earning potential. This is the time to brag about yourself.”